


so come on down and walk with me, tell me i'm your man

by atheoryon



Series: Mandatory Fun [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Punk, M/M, Tattoos, and background appearances by the gang (tm), as well as the decidedly-not-hipster bucky we all love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 21:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18351821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atheoryon/pseuds/atheoryon
Summary: As Barnes started setting up his needles and ink, Clint couldn’t help but stare at him. Gone was the pink hoodie, this time he was wearing a sleeveless black mesh shirt, showing off tantalising muscles and yes, his stump where his left arm used to be as well. With the shirt he had on a pair of black skinny jeans that did wonders for his thighs but also made Clint slightly worried for his circulation. What surprised him the most though, was the lack of tattoos on Barnes. It was of course possible he had them on his legs, or none at all, but still. Most people working in a tattoo shop tended to be heavily tatted themselves. It made Barnes even more intriguing.Or, Clint is hella punk, gets a tattoo, and develops a crush along the way.





	so come on down and walk with me, tell me i'm your man

**Author's Note:**

> another mandatoryfunday prompt, this time (prompted by me so you know) punk, in honor of mohawkeye.
> 
> title from Good Good Things by The Descendents
> 
> posted a day early because i'm going to go to greece with school on friday, what a tough life.

Nothing quite made him feel alive the way the heavy bass vibrating through his body as he jumped with hundreds of people did. The loud music and most likely even louder crowd, music he could really feel, even without his hearing aids. The pure rush of adrenaline, the flashing lights, even the worn-out feeling he always had after a show, Clint loved every second of it.

 

Now though, he had to make due with his headphones, the Dead Kennedys yelling in his ears as he walked down the street on his way to the tattoo parlor where he was getting his next piece. They specialized in tattooing over scars, and came highly recommended by his best friend Natasha. 

 

She’d gotten a tattoo done at their place two years prior, when she’d gotten a scar on her hip from a bullet. 

 

(Clint still wasn’t sure exactly why she’d been shot at)

 

(He also really didn’t want to know) 

 

(Not like she’d tell him if he asked)

 

Either way, she’d recommended the place to him and if Natasha said something was good, Clint typically agreed, so there he was. He’d had his top surgery just last year, and whilst he loved seeing the pride other trans people had in their scars, that really wasn’t for him. So, as he was looking through different parlors that were highly ranked for their work on scars, Natasha had dropped the card for  _ SHIELD Ink & Piercings _ , located in Brooklyn, and bluntly told him to stop wasting his time and go there.

 

-o-

 

Taking a deep breath, Clint pushed through the door and was greeted by the sight of a small-ish lobby, art on the walls and two couches in one corner, two doors presumably leading to the actual tattoo and piercing stations, and a handsome black man standing behind the counter. 

 

Walking up to the counter, he’s greeted by Hot Guy, and just as he’s about to say hello and ask after his appointment, one of the doors bangs open, AC/DC blasting through and a slightly manic looking man in a suit, with a somehow impeccable goatee, pointing at Hot Guy. “Sam,” he started, then looked Clint up and down for a moment, clearly deeming him not worthy of further thought and continues, “Sam. Sam. Dude. Bro. Sam. I’ve had an idea.” 

 

He then went on for five minutes about some way to revolutionize tattoo guns, during which he looked more and more manic, Hot Guy Sam more and more exasperated, and Clint started wondering what the hell kind of place Natasha had sent him to. He’s about three seconds away from texting her exactly that, when the door opens again, AC/DC still playing but at a much lower volume, revealing a tall, blond guy who’s built like a brick-house and _honestly_ were any of the people here unattractive, what the hell, and it only takes one “Tony” for Manic Guy to turn around and go back to his station. 

 

“Sorry about that, Tony gets like that sometimes and unless you’re Steve, there’s just no stopping him.” Sam chuckled. “Did you have an appointment?” Clint dutifully gave his appointment information and only had to wait a few minutes before a client left the second of the two doors and he could walk through. 

 

He immediately froze in the doorway when he saw the the tattoo artist sitting on his desk, cradling a cup of coffee close to his chest. He’s mentally adding onto his list of insults for Natasha because honestly, she could have at least _mentioned_ that Barnes was hot as all hell, instead of just being her cryptic self, telling him to “get Barnes. He knows what he’s doing.” So yeah. Damn Natasha. Barnes was wearing ripped mom jeans with fishnets underneath, a pink cropped hoodie with one of the sleeves pinned up and black Doctor Martens and fuck he may have looked like every aesthetic girl on tumblr, but he made it work and Clint was glad for the first time in his life that he didn’t have a natural dick because it would have made this moment rather awkward. 

 

Clearly, he was quiet for just a moment too long because Barnes looked up and smiled as he said: “Hey, Clint Barton, right? This your first time?” Clint quickly shook his head, both in answer and to clear his head. He pushed up the sleeve of his left arm, revealing the -ha- sleeve he’s got tattooed there. 

 

“Not my first time, sorry, just didn’t- It’s fine.” Mentally berating himself for the lame answer, Clint stepped forward to shake Barnes’ hand. Barnes got up from his desk and damn it Clint hated stereotyping but with the outfit he had on and the improper sitting he couldn’t help but pray that the guy was attracted to men. Right. Focus. Tattoos. 

 

“So you mentioned you wanted a chest piece to cover up some scars, right? D’you have more of an idea for what design you want and how? Actually, would you mind taking off your shirt so I can see what I’m working with?” Barnes blushed as he realized he was rambling a bit, and damn it, he was even more adorable that way. Clint really needed to get a grip, he was a grown-ass man, he didn’t think men were adorable or got tongue-tied simply because they smiled at him. Nope. He didn’t do that. 

 

Clint quickly took off his shirt, heartbeat rising the way it always did when he had to come out to someone, no matter how many times he’s done over the years. Barnes however didn’t even seem to notice his nerves, he just directed him to sit down onto the chair and positioned the light so he could get a good look at his chest. 

 

Suddenly remembering that Barnes had asked him a question, Clint wrecked his brain to come up with an answer. “I don’t really have an idea of a design, but I looked through your portfolio on the site and your style goes really well with the other stuff I’ve got,” he gestured to his right arm at that, before continuing “and my friend, Natasha, recommended you, so I figured I’d let you have a look, see what you think fits.” 

  
Barnes didn’t seem phased by what his scars meant, just nodded, mostly to himself it seemed, and started tracing patterns in the air above his chest, mumbling occasionally. Clint squirmed under the attention, somewhere in the dark corner of his mind still waiting for a derogatory comment of some sort. It never came however, as the only thing Barnes said about it was a quick “Do you want the tattoo to include some sort of trans symbol, or not?” and then he went on about different design ideas he had. Clint couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief he was pretty sure didn’t go unnoticed.

 

-o-

 

When Clint returned to  _ SHIELD _ a few weeks later to actually get his tattoo done, he couldn’t help but be nervous. Not for the tattooing, he’d done that often now to know he’d be fine, but because of who was tattooing him. Barnes had been on his mind pretty much constantly since he’d left his consultation. He felt like a ridiculous teenager with a crush and told Natasha as much when she’d come over one Friday night and he’d had enough to drink to not care what he was telling her. She probably already knew anyway. 

 

Point was, he had a fucking _crush_ and was nervous over it, which was just stupid, at least to him. He knew he could look intimidating, even with his 5’5”, the leather jacket and tattoos and glaring; but no, apparently all it took was one guy with a soft smile and a missing arm for him to turn into a gooey marshmallow. 

 

Mentally berating himself, he walked into the shop, barely on time for his appointment because he’d stopped on his way there for coffee, he was only human and needed his caffeine to keep him running. 

 

The same Hot Guy was behind the counter and honest, one day he was going to get better with learning names, anyway, Hot Guy pointed him towards the same station he’d been last time with a quick smile. Nodding back his thanks, Clint walked in, eager to see the design Barnes’d come up with and get it tattooed as well, just to get it over with and also so he could get over his crush. 

 

As Barnes laid out the design for him, he forgot all about his crush though. It was beautiful, all sharp lines, with birds and flowers interspersed with geometric shapes and on his right side a small transgender symbol, there but not noticeable enough to draw attention to it. For a bit, Clint really didn’t know what to say. Barnes took his silence the right way, though, smiling at his awed reaction. “Want to get started?”

 

As Barnes started setting up his needles and ink, Clint couldn’t help but stare at him. Gone was the pink hoodie, this time he was wearing a sleeveless black mesh shirt, showing off tantalizing muscles and yes, his stump where his left arm used to be as well. With the shirt he had on a pair of black skinny jeans that did wonders for his thighs but also made Clint slightly worried for his circulation. What surprised him the most though, was the lack of tattoos on Barnes. It was of course possible he had them on his legs, or none at all, but still. Most people working in a tattoo shop tended to be heavily tatted themselves. It made Barnes even more intriguing. 

 

-o-

 

Over the course of three sessions, the time it took for the chest piece to be finished, Clint actually got to know Barnes, or Bucky, as he’d offered at the end of their first session, which made his crush even worse. Because not only was Bucky fucking hot and a great artist, he also just had to be kind, funny, and frankly really weird, if his stories about breaking into a swimming pool with Steve, ‘you know Steve, dorito body who does the piercings’, were even halfway true. He also told him about his lack of tattoos, luckily not a heavy subject, but he explained that he loved the art form but couldn’t commit himself to the rest-of-your-life aspect of tattoos, so for himself he stuck to the occasional bit of henna and ball-pen body art. In return Clint offered stories of himself, his time in the circus, coming out as trans, and the occasional less-than-legal exploit with Natasha. 

 

Especially the second last point made things interesting, because obviously Bucky knew he was trans, I mean, it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together and he’d put a trans symbol in his tattoo design for Christ’s sake, but the story he’d told in return had made things interesting. Because of course Bucky had an ex-boyfriend who was trans as well, and wasn’t that a convenient coming out that left Clint’s head spinning, as Bucky happily continued tattooing him. 

 

As Bucky put away the last of his needles, Clint allowed himself one last look, telling himself that after today he was moving on, it was just a crush that was getting out of hand, but it could go back into his hand. Or something. There’d been needles going into his skin for the past few hours, he wasn’t thinking too straight. 

 

Bucky returned with the wrap to put over his chest, and just as Clint had managed to put uncomfortable memories of binding out his head, Bucky leaned over him to secure the wrap, looking up at him. After a few seconds of eye contact that left Clint slightly breathless and damn it, Bucky had his hand over his heart he could definitely feel it had sped up, Clint couldn’t resist letting his eyes drop to Bucky’s lips, full and pink and so damn inviting, slightly parted as they were, and okay, Bucky was licking his lips and Clint looked into Bucky’s eyes again, an apology on his tongue, but which died immediately as Bucky leaned in a bit, letting his own eyes drop to Clint’s lips. 

 

“Can I…” Bucky trailed off, looking so damn unsure that Clint wanted to wrap him up and protect him from the rest of the world. That would have to wait though, as the only reply he could come up with was to nod, probably a bit too jerkily and fast but who was judging him as Bucky -finally- closed the distance between them, just a soft brush of lips against his, but which turned into a fuller press as Clint tilted his head to accommodate him. There were no fireworks behind his eyes, no sudden angels singing, just the warmth of Bucky over him and his lips against him, but it was better than any damn chick-flick could give him. 

 

Much as Clint loved making out with Bucky, and really, any other time he wouldn’t have stopped if World War Three suddenly broke out, but he had just been tattooed and couldn’t exactly move his arms comfortable and Bucky was at work and this was probably all sorts of unprofessional. He leaned back slightly, or as much as was possible when lying on a tattoo station, and grinned at Bucky’s blushing cheeks. For all his smiling, he had no clue what to say next and it didn’t take long for the silence to stretch into awkwardness. They both couldn’t help but laugh, somewhat breaking the tension. Bucky awkwardly shuffled off of Clint’s lap, and the latter would later deny that he whined an ‘aw, Buck, no’ when it happened. 

 

“So.” Bucky started, but he couldn’t quite figure out where to go, staying quiet for a few seconds before taking a deep breath, nodding to himself and saying: “So. Might as well just go for it. I like you, you’re hot stuff, what do you say to a cup of coffee?” Clint’s grin got impossibly wider, probably showing too many teeth to count as attractive but he really couldn’t care at that moment, nodding happily. “Good. So. Aftercare for your tattoo.” And Bucky honest-to-God cackled a laugh as he went to the door at Clint’s long-suffering groan.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> my [tumblr](atheoryon.tumblr.com)
> 
> please leave kudos/a comment if you liked it. or don't. i don't own you, but y'know. i'd like it.


End file.
